for the future

Epilogue

Months of walking and wandering around, he met Dante, Dostoevsky, Dumas, Gibran, and many other of the great ones. He felt identified with Orwell and fascinated by H.G. Well's Utopian. Years passed and he memorized them and some of his companions passed away making him the keeper of that knowledge. If he read, he would remember. He had been introduced into Philosophy, Psychology, Science and gained some understanding of the human mind. It was like a sponge absorbing, always getting more information and getting thicker and thicker until it looked different from its original state. It was not dry anymore, the emptiness was little by little replaced by the richness of words, ideas, and thoughts.

"I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us." He once thought Clarisse was mad, but he lacked perspective and the ability to see her free from chains tied by the society. Clarisse was his ray of light, she unlocked the chains and opened the door of possibilities, of making decisions. Funny thing, 'definitions'. Once he had said: "any man's insane who thinks he can fool the government and us", but was it really madness? He'd done it, he fooled the government and its force. He was free and it was good.

A new guy came yesterday, Ray. He was in his thirty and used to be an operator of the poison sucking machines. He got a call to a house where a woman lived alone. While she was out and his co-working controlling the machine, he wandered around and saw some books. The next time there was a call to the same address, he went alone and skimmed some books, but then all roads came to an end as always and trouble caught you. He ran a whole day into the forest before finding them. He'd memorized parts of Arabian Nights, a book of mischief, valor, ribaldry, and romance.

"Conceal thy secret only from such as are known to be indiscrete, and who will abuse thy confidence, but make no difficulty in discovering it to be prudent men because they know how to keep it. The secret then, is as safe as if locked up in the cabinet, the key of which is lost, and the door sealed." Ray murmured recollecting his knowledge.

"Ray, come here." Montag called him "What can you hear?" He closed his eyes tilted his head and listened. The wind rustling the leaves of the tree, birds singing, crickets in the floor, small things moving, the wind whispering in his ears. Whispering and whispering and whispering... saying live, live, live, live. "Out here is where your life starts, when you really start to live. Whatever you did before, it was useless, it wasn't living. It doesn't matter who you were, if you were someone important, you are not anymore." He pointed at the rest of the group saying "You are just one more of the group, an instrument of knowledge, you mustn't consider yourself important, you mustn't be pedant if you actually want to enjoy this life. Do not worry about what you left behind because you are not gone and neither they are."

"But, my daughter. She's alone in the world, and the society will put ideas in her mind which she'll follow them blindly." Laurent, a 60 years old man connoisseur in poetry and lyrics, pat his back and advised him. "She stays with you, in your heart. And you stayed in hers." Montag thought of what Granger once told him: everyone must leave something behind when he dies. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die." Yes, it reminds him of Mildred when they met. She might have changed over the years, she did almost nothing like an invalid other than react to those on the TV walls. But it was not the things they do not do, who they were could be a blur and subjective. But it was important what they did, even though just once or twice, no one else would do them again. "Everyone is an individual, and they will be remembered as such. Believe it, your daughter will always remember you by what you did and it will help her shape who she will be or whatever she'll do in the future."

"Thanks, I've never heard wiser words. Most people just talk to the walls." He laughed quietly to himself thinking of old memories of his daughter. "I've heard of you people, hiding in the woods, a secret civilization. There are rumors, many people are trying to find books, look for knowledge, and search for this place. They want to have peace and be free. That's how I end up here, it wasn't just coincidence, but I've tracked you."

"Are there many others interested in Knowledge" Laurent asked perplexed.

"Yes, many others. We've tried to have secret meetings but there are too many eyes everywhere. We are planning to raise. Some children are being raised already with the idea of thinking by themselves, but they must pretend they follow the herd. It is difficult for the little ones, there have been some deaths. But we continue trying."

They arrived at the camp, there were tents and bonfires all around the meadow. There were a couple hundred, even some couples started emerging. Love was an impossible concept, nonexistence in another life but now they started experimenting it.

"Para mi corazón basta tu pecho,

Para tu libertad bastan mis alas.

Desde mi boca llegaría hasta el cielo

Lo que estaba dormido sobre tu alma."

Before, even by reading and learning them, it would have been impossible to quote Neruda and given a max effect. There were strange feelings which no one had experimented. Love. Desire. Eros and Agape as Greek myth decided to call them. It was a new civilization growing with time. They would one day merge and then opaque them. There might be more people in the city than in the camp, but those ones were starting to rebel. Faithful ones to the government were no more than a small percent. Once they lacked stability, that government would immediately fall and then a new era would begin. All sacrifices would not be in vain. ꝉ Clarisse, ꝉ her family, ꝉ Millie, ꝉ Faber, ꝉ Beatty, ꝉ Cassius... RIP for all of them.

Simple and pure enthusiasm was feared by week souls, they couldn't stand its ardor and weight. But as one grows older, each day they learned many new things. The world grows old and growing old saddens, but a mood could change and be overcome by enthusiasm when the imagination overcomes "judgment", that was the one defined by the government. People were changing, the society was changing, and it was all for the better. Pray the skies one day the world would be like before, to its origins, pure, looking for a wide world ahead, with hope for the future.

Montag couldn't believe how much had changed. He remembered his days when he only saw the fire. When he was deaf and blind but could still hear rules, orders, and commands. His calendar and schedules, when it was due to burn which list. All that material he destroyed without even given it a second look. How much more he would have been able to give to his new society if he had looked at those books back then. The heat of the flames he enjoyed at seen a house in flame compared to the pain at seen his own house in flames. The matches on his hand, sometimes a lighter, dropping it, letting it fell over the pile of books. And then the ashes that were left on the floor. How there was no remain of them yet the walls had not even a scratch. The voices on the wall, so loud, so many, occupying your mind with no space for your own thoughts. The overwhelming feeling of all as well as the feeling of normality. That is what the world was like, he knew nothing different and couldn't see how wrong everything was until it was pointed out to him.

He walked alone towards the river. It was dark, no one would see him. Therefore, he crossed the river and got as close to the city as he could while safe from being seen. Has it really changed that much since he left? He thought to himself. Now he could only wait and see the outcome. Even if he didn't get to see the tomorrow, the children would be the men of the future and they would experience life as he never did. He was happy. There was no more vicious cycle where everyone acts as they were told. No, no more.

A new beginning awakes. Mistakes won't be repeated because now each one will make their own world. Each one will see the world with their own eyes. And each one will live life their own ways.

THE END